


Down Memory Lane

by stcrmpilot



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Time War, Time War Angst, just a real fun day out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 10:36:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13500124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stcrmpilot/pseuds/stcrmpilot
Summary: The Doctor takes Donna and Wilf to the Galactic Military History Museum and gets more than he bargained for.





	Down Memory Lane

"I don't know about this," the Doctor grumbled, leaning back against the outside of the TARDIS, arms crossed over his chest. "Why can't we just go to the Library of Alexandria? Been wanting to go for ages!"

"Oh, come on." Donna mimicked his stance, head tilted back to meet his gaze. "He'll love it."

"I thought he didn't want to go on trips with us. He said he'd rather see it all from Earth."

"He wants to see this."

The Doctor sighed deeply, relenting. "Fine." He pointed a finger at her, eyebrow raised. "But I am not a taxi service."

She rolled her eyes. "Sure."

A door shut behind her, and she turned to see Wilfred making his way down the front steps of their house, wearing his navy blue military uniform, adorned with polished metals and sash pressed neatly across his chest. As he hurried across the street, shivering in the cold wind, Donna heard the Doctor retreat into the TARDIS, letting the door fall shut without so much as a greeting for her grandfather. 

_ What's got into him? _ she wondered to herself.

Wilf stopped in front of the TARDIS, a smile on his face at the sight of the little blue box. "Shall we be going, then?" he asked, excitement evident in his voice. 

Donna, smiling right back, pushed open the door and stepped inside, holding it for Wilf behind her. In the console room, the Doctor was hurrying about the controls, flipping switches and twisting dials. 

"Right!" he exclaimed, back to his usual enthusiasm. "Off we go. What year did you say you wanted?"

"This one, preferably," said Wilf, observing the alien man's swift movements. "Wouldn't want to spoil anything, would I?"

"Well, if you like," the Doctor said mildly. With a final pull of a lever, the familiar wheezing, groaning sound of the ship dematerializing filled the room. The floor trembled beneath their feet, and the TARDIS settled in its new position. 

"There you go," he said, gesturing towards the door without an upward glance. "Not quite sure where I've landed, it should be close."

Wilfred thanked him, seemingly unaware of anything odd, and cautiously opened the door. He glanced back. "Are you coming?"

"Just a moment," said Donna. 

He nodded, straightened the poppy on his chest and stepped outside. 

Donna crossed her arms and stared at the Doctor. "So. What's got you all bothered?"

The Doctor shot her the briefest of quizzical looks. "Nothing. Why?"

"Well, in that case, why don't you come with us?"

He faltered in his path around the console. "Yeah. Yeah, sure. Sounds good."

"Good." Donna walked over to the exit, the Doctor following after a moment. "He'll really appreciate it, you know," she added over her shoulder. 

He nodded, paused to grab a poppy from the console, and pinned it to his jacket. 

They stepped out of the TARDIS onto a hill covered in tall, blueish-green grass. It was drizzling, the clouds dark and swollen, and the earthy smell of wet greenery filled the air. Wind, damp and chilly, whistled across the rise, and Donna drew her jacket around her tighter. 

The Doctor started off down the hill towards a vast complex, Donna and Wilf close behind him. The building, a simple rectangular construction made of some smooth, dark-coloured material, sprawled across a patch of land several hundred meters on either side. A number of distinct wings curved out from the centre, mimicking the shape of the Milky Way. Around back, Donna could see a number of vehicles and spaceships and other, stranger things, too large to display within the building itself. 

Spinning on his heel, the Doctor stopped in front of the entrance and gestured broadly. "Welcome to the Galactic Military History Museum. Knock yourselves out."

Wilfred hurried inside, eager to look around. Donna followed, the Doctor just behind her. 

"Well, where should we start?" she asked, surveying the dim, warmly-lit foyer. 

The Doctor nodded towards the first wing to their left. "There's an Earth section down at the end there, give that a shot."

Wilf liked that idea, so they set off to explore. They'd made it several segments down the wing before Donna realized that the Doctor had disappeared. She didn't think much of it; he'd probably seen the museum a hundred times already. That was exactly the sort of thing he liked to do in his free time, of which he always had as much as he wanted. But then an hour passed, and another, and she started to get worried. 

Donna finally found the Doctor some time later. He had come upon an exhibit with no one else around; the room was dark, the displays lit individually by warm, golden lamps. It was somber, even more so than the rest of the museum, if that were possible. The Doctor was standing with his back to Donna, staring at a display in the very centre of the room. 

"There you are," she sighed. "I looked all over for you. Did you forget the time again? You know it's been more than two hours since you wandered off, I told Gramps to go explore the TARDIS, I hope that's–"

She stopped short. The Doctor hadn't even seemed to notice her arrival. If he had, he didn't show it.

"Doctor?" Donna took a step closer, thrown off by his unresponsiveness. "You alright?"

His eyes, previously fixed ahead of him, dropped to the floor. "Yeah, s'pose it is time to go," he said. Spinning around, he walked out of the room without even looking at Donna. 

Confused, she glanced at the display he'd been studying—and her heart plummeted. It was a very simple arrangement, consisting of a golden helm placed atop a black stone podium, which had been engraved with the text "The Last Great Time War". Then, below it, a number so large that Donna couldn't have read it out it if she'd tried. The guilt hit her like a blow; she had no idea there would be stuff on the Time War here. She spun to face the Doctor, horrified. 

He had already left the room. 

"Doctor, wait!" she called, then remembered where they were and dropped her voice to a stage whisper. "Where are you going?"

"The TARDIS, of course," he answered, apparently unaffected. "Gotta take Wilfred home."

Donna hurried to keep up with him as he strode back through the museum and out the front doors, towards his ship. He seemed happy and normal again. She knew better, of course. But was it her place to bring it up again? 

He burst through the door. It nearly hit Donna as it swung back. Wilf was waiting in the console room, and he jumped as they entered. 

"I didn't touch anything," he told the Doctor, stepping back he began his dance around the console. 

"Good man," the Doctor said. He threw down a lever and the engines started up their groaning, rising and falling in volume until they eventually went quiet. The TARDIS gave a little jolt and a low chime; he trotted over to the doors and peered outside. Turning back with a grin, contented at having gotten the right time and place, he gestured to the street waiting outside. 

"Well, there you go." The Doctor rocked back on his heels. "Have a nice time?"

"Oh, yes, brilliant," Wilf said, returning his smile. "That bit about… what was it, the Cloister Wars? Fascinating."

The Doctor hummed in agreement, and went to fiddle with the console. 

"I'll be with you in a little while," Donna whispered as Wilf made his way to the exit. He looked to her, then the Doctor, and nodded, clearly oblivious to any tension. Once the door swung shut behind him, she turned the lock and walked slowly over to the console. 

"Something the matter?" inquired the Doctor, seemingly fixated on one specific switch.

She folded her arms across her chest. 

"What?"

"Do you want to discuss this?" she asked. 

The smile faded from his face. "There's nothing to discuss," he muttered, turning his attention to the console. 

Donna sighed. "Listen, Doctor… I'm really sorry I got you to take us to the museum, I wasn't thinking–"

"No, no, it's fine," he insisted. "It's a great learning experience."

She bit back her frustration. "But you didn't have to do it. Why didn't you just tell me why you didn't want go?"

He seemed to realize he wouldn't be able to avoid this conversation. He leaned against the edge of the console and closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. "I didn't think it'd be this bad, I really didn't."

Donna placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Come, sit," she said, guiding him to one of the jumpseats. 

Hesitantly, he took a seat next to her, avoiding her gaze at all costs. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked. 

"What is there to talk about?" the Doctor replied. He looked worn and tired, the sort of exhausted that couldn't be helped by sleep. "You know the story. It's nothing new."

"Yeah. But you can still get it off your chest. If you want."

His gaze dropped to the floor. "Thanks." He gave a deep sigh. "I'm just fed up with it. Going all… moody, every time I see something that makes me think about it."

As if a thought had just occurred to him, he looked up and met her eyes. "It's not always guilt, these days. Have I told you that? Often, sure, but sometimes…" He faltered, struggling to find the right words. "Sometimes I just get so scared. Like I can't stand still, or I'll start thinking about it too much. Like it's happening all over again."

Hoping she didn't upset him further, Donna said, "You said you fought. Is that what you think about?"

Slowly, he nodded. 

"And it scares you."

Leaning forward, he drew his hands through his hair. "Yes," he muttered. 

"Would it help to describe it?" she asked, careful not to push. 

The Doctor opened his mouth, and closed it again. "I'm not sure," he decided. "I think… I think I'd rather not, right now."

"Sure, of course." Thinking for a moment, she said, "I made you go. I'm here to help. What do you need?"

"I don't know," he sighed, after some consideration. "I've never really done this before."

"You've never talked about the War? Even with–" she stopped herself abruptly, guessing he wouldn't appreciate any mention of Rose at the moment. "With your other companions?"

He shook his head. "I don't like the way people look at me when they remember it. Reasonable, of course, completely understandable. But…" He took a shuddering breath, leaning forward on his elbows, chin in his hands. 

"But it still hurts," she finished quietly. 

With a hint of a sad smile, he nodded. "Doesn't matter, anyways, I wouldn't know what to say."

"You could start with what's going through your head. If you want, of course."

He thought about it for a minute. "Are you sure you're alright with this?"

"As long as you are."

"Alright then." The Doctor took a deep, steadying breath. "Right now, I'm thinking about how selfish it is of me to be complaining about this, and how… how I don't deserve to feel any better about it." His eyes squeezed shut, a shudder running through his body. 

Donna's breath caught momentarily. "Oh, Doctor," she whispered. "I promise you, that is not true." She went to place her hand on his arm and paused. "Is it alright if I touch you?"

Making a vague gesture, he said, "Yeah, 's fine."

Gently, she wrapped her arm around his, intertwining their fingers. "C'mon now, what makes you think you don't deserve to feel better?"

He shrugged, though she didn't miss him blinking back tears. "They should get some sort of payback. I was never punished for it. That's not fair."

"Well, that's not fair to you," she countered. "You ask me, you've repaid that debt a thousand times over. God, Doctor, I can't tell you what you've done for me, let alone the rest of the bloody universe! I'd say that's pretty deserving of better."

"I'm not sure it works like that," he mumbled. 

Her heart sank to see him so resistant to believe her. How many times had he told himself this stuff?

"What else is there?"

He swallowed, and gripped her hand tighter. "That number. So much of that was me. I mean… I saw them, in the city, before it was destroyed. I walked through the burning streets and looked those people in the face before killing all of them. How… how could I ever do that?"

"I think you did it because you were in an impossible situation," she said, tracing circles on the back of his hand. "You can't fool me, spaceman. Like you said: I know the story. They didn't exactly give you a choice."

"I know, I do, but–" He looked up at the ceiling, tears spilling down his cheeks, and he sniffed. "I hate it. I hate myself for making that decision."

A pang of sympathy made her chest ache. Her eyes stung; it hurt her to see him so tormented.

"I… I don't know what to say," she whispered. 

"You don't have to say anything, it's fine," the Doctor said roughly. 

"No!" she burst out, before she realized it. "No, it's not! That's not right. You just… you deserve so much better than that! I–" She took him suddenly by the shoulders and turned him to face her. "I never want you to feel like that. Understand? You don't deserve that. You're too hard on yourself."

His eyes fell back to the floor. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, guess I am. Maybe that's why I went along with it."

"What, you– you wanted to make yourself feel bad? By going with us?"

He gave a slow nod. "S'pose so."

Donna shook her head, taking his hand in both of hers. "Well, don't do it again," she said, sounding far more sorry than scolding. "Next time how 'bout you just… I don't know, listen to some sad music or watch a movie about a dog."

Wiping his eyes, the Doctor gave a weak laugh. "Bit late now, I guess." His smile faded suddenly. "You don't think Wilf saw that exhibit, do you?"

"Don't worry about it, we didn't go over there," Donna promised. 

"Good." He sniffed. "Good."

Wrapping an arm around his waist, she pulled him close and let her head fall against his shoulder. "How're you doing?" she asked after a moment. 

"Better." But his voice shook as he said it, and he drew in a shuddering breath. 

She looked up at him, brows creased. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. Fine," he choked. He leaned away from Donna's embrace to rub his hands down his face. 

"Hey," she murmured, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly, "what is it?"

"'S nothing, it's stupid, I just– I have spent so long–" His voice cracked, and his body shook as he fought to keep from breaking down. 

Donna grasped his hand tightly, giving him silent encouragement, and he took a deep breath. 

"I've gone a long time, wishing I had… died on Gallifrey with everyone else. Honestly, I still don't know whether I should have or not. I don't know. But you–" He swallowed, and turned to her with a tearful smile. "You are so good to me. And for me. I know I can be moody and reckless and harsh on myself, and it's sort of an occupational hazard that I end up almost dying a lot, but truly, it's you and everyone like you who makes it worth it. I am so incredibly grateful for everything you've done for me, really. Thank you."

Donna, rendered speechless, found herself gathered up in the Doctor's arms, head nestled in the crook of his neck. She opened and closed her mouth several times, searching for something adequate to say but finding nothing. She settled instead for returning his hug fiercely, holding him as tightly as she could, hands making fists in his suit jacket. She felt the fabric damp against her cheek, and she realized she had begun crying. 

The Doctor first broke the silence. 

"Oh… did I do something wrong?" he asked, the concern evident in his voice. "Blimey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be insensitive or–"

"No, you prawn," Donna laughed, releasing him to dry her eyes with her sleeve. "I was touched."

"Ah. Right." He swept his hair back out of his face, cheeks slightly flushed. "Sorry."

She took pity on him then. "Oh, come here," she muttered, and embraced him again. 

"Love you, Donna," he mumbled into her blouse. 

"I love you too, Doctor."

After a long while, he extracted himself and began circling the console, flipping switches and turning dials as he went. "Parking her properly," he explained. "Don't want her to drift off."

Donna got up from the jumpseat and stood in his path, forcing him to take pause. "Are you feeling better now?" she asked softly. "Be honest."

He glanced at his feet. A smile spread across his face and he looked up to meet her eyes. "Yeah," he murmured. 

"Good!" She raised an eyebrow. "'Cause I think I owe you that trip to the Library of Alexandria you wanted."

He positively beamed at that. All else forgotten, he darted off again, reversing his parking job. The engines started up their whining and groaning, the TARDIS gave a final lurch; he spun the viewscreen around to make sure he'd landed in the right place and strode off towards the door. 

The Doctor stopped just inside and offered Donna his arm. She took it gladly. 

"Right then!" He gave her an excited grin. " _Allons-y_!"


End file.
